Call Them What They Are

they congregate
in coffee houses,
smoking filtered cigarettes, complaining
about the world
without Kafka,
without Elliot,
grown portly, in their opinions
of what exactly constitutes
art
wallflowers in modern eclectic
designer fascism
bought from the internet markets, and
super consumer niches
away from the mainstream
elitists, in safety
they claim the avant-garde
is dead

© Emerys Watchel, 2015 All rights reserved.

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